61
" Huffing from her exertion, her face flushed and her expression happy, she looked toward the door—and went still.
Dare pushed past Trace and went to the wall unit to turn down the music.
Into the silence, Chris asked, “Everyone having fun?”
“God, Chris,” Dare said. “Trace is going to kill you if you don’t shut up.”
“Really?” Priss struck a pose of annoyance, one hip cocked out, her arms crossed, her chin elevated. “And here Molly and Chris assured Matt that you weren’t the type to cause bodily harm.”
“They must have been jesting.” Trace was well used to Chris’s warped sense of humor, so Chris wasn’t in any danger. But Matt . . . Trace zeroed in on him. In a tone more lethal for the quietness of it, he asked, “What are you doing?”
“Harmless dancing?” Matt replied in a nervous question, unsure of the right answer.
Priss suddenly stepped in front of Matt, which left Matt bemused. “Don’t act snarky with him, Trace. I asked him to dance with me. We had some time to kill before this crud comes out of my hair. And you were nowhere to be found.”
Matt pulled her aside, earning a glare from Trace. He quickly held up his hands, palms out, to prove he wasn’t touching her. “Speaking of time, we can go wash your hair right now, if everyone will just excuse us.”
“I need a minute with Priss first.” Trace eyed her militant stance, and had to fight a smile. She had a backbone of steel. He liked that. “Alone. "
― Lori Foster , Trace of Fever (Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor, #2)
63
" Matt opened the door. “We seriously need to finish the process with her hair.”
“Two more minutes,” Trace said.
Matt balked over the delay, but finally said, “Fine. Two minutes and no more.” He ducked back inside.
“Oh, wow,” Priss teased. “He really is terrified of you, isn’t he?”
Trace smiled. “It was noble of you to try to shield him earlier.”
“Yeah, well.” She huffed out a breath and looked down at their clasped hands. “You were mean-mugging him, and I wasn’t sure what you might do.”
“And you figured whatever you did, you could stop me even if another man couldn’t? "
― Lori Foster , Trace of Fever (Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor, #2)
65
" And so you were in here, chatting with God?"
Bruce stared at her face, studying her features in minute detail. His voice dropped to a soft, velvety whisper. "I wanted to thank Him for my many blessings."
The burning of her eyes increased. She would not cry like some ninny just because Bruce was happy. He was a devout and wonderful person who always looked to the bright side. Knowing that prompted her to say, "You're such a good man, Bruce."
"I'm a fortunate man, in many, many ways." He made a grand gesture toward the glass blocks. "It's a beautiful, sunny day, and my very own church is almost complete."
"It is shaping up. Everyone will like it."
His thumb moved to her bottom lip with a teasing, gentle touch. "Good friends surround me, and I enjoy good health."
"All things you deserve."
He smiled. "And I've been given the greatest gift of all."
"What's that?"
He laughed, tweaked her chin. "You."
"Me?"
He slowly nodded. "God's given me a lot. But best of all, He's given me you." He took her mouth in a long, toe-curling, stomach-tightening kiss, and in a husky rumble: "I'll be thinking Him every day for the rest of my life."
-Bruce and Cyn "
― Lori Foster , When Bruce Met Cyn... (Visitation, North Carolina, #3)
67
" If you'll just settle down and listen, I'll explain." Cautiously, he turned her around so she faced him. Then, before she could protest, he looked at her mouth, appeared drawn there and he started kissing her again, light, teasing kisses. "I swear, Frannie, you have the sexiest mouth."
"In about two seconds, I'm going to unman you with my knee." He released her and stepped back so quickly, she almost smiled. "Now, if you insist, you can explain while you help me move my stuff."
-Booker and Frannie "
― Lori Foster , Yule Be Mine
69
" Tyler caught her wrist. "You can't walk home now. It's raining."
"Believe me, it won't bother me a bit."
"Now, Carlie, don't be obstinate."
"Tyler, I'm dangerously close to laying you low." She had to get away from him. Now.
"Violence? My, my, your cold is making you surly."
She tugged, but he didn't release her. "Tyler, what did you intend to do today, before you came here and decided to harass me?"
"I was going to harass Brenda, but you'll do better. "
― Lori Foster , Impetuous
70
" In the elevator, he held silent, but she saw him twice look at her blouse. She could feel his gaze, damn it, deep inside herself. And she knew what he was looking at.
Without the binding, her boobs were far too noticeable. The damned buttons gaped and the material strained.
“Enjoying yourself?” she asked with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
If anything, her jibe only made him intensify his study. He stood there, negligence personified, his hands clasped behind his back, his stance casual and relaxed. “I can see the outline of your nipples.”
She nearly strangled on her fury. “Go to hell!”
“What are you? C cup? Maybe even a D?”
Oh, God, she did not want to stand here alone with him, closed up in such a small space with his heat and scent invading her lungs. “None of your damn business.”
He lifted his hand in front of him, not to touch her, but to imagine it covering her right breast. His face screwed up while he pretended to heft her. “I’d say a full C.”
A fine trembling started in her neck and went down her spine. She needed to stay composed to face off with Murray Coburn, but for whatever reason, this man wanted to demolish her control. “I say go kill yourself.”
He cracked a smile.
And what that smile did for him . . . She couldn’t deny that he was devastatingly handsome. Probably a cutthroat villain, but still gorgeous. That disheveled fair hair and those intense, oddly colored eyes . . . she shivered.
He lifted a brow. “Cold?”
“No.” She had to distract him. “So I didn’t catch your name.”
“No one gave you my name.”
“It’s a secret, then?” She tried to hunch her shoulders to make her chest less noticeable. “How strange.”
“That doesn’t help,” he said of her posture, “and if you’re really interested?” He held out a hand. “Trace Miller.”
She disdained touching him again. “Is that your real name or an alias?”
With a grin, he retracted his proffered hand. “What do you think?”
“I think you took my driver’s license.”
He went still for a heartbeat, giving her a small measure of satisfaction. Lifting her hands in a “woo woo” way, she intoned,” I know all, see all.” Then she curled her lip. “And besides, you suck at stealth. "
― Lori Foster , Trace of Fever (Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor, #2)
72
" His thumb rubbed over her knee, and Priss wondered if he was aware of doing it, if he did it on purpose to turn her on, or if it was extension of the thoughts she saw flickering across his face.
“Trace . . .”
“It occurs to me that I didn’t see a single freckle on you. Not on your face.” He gave her a quick, level look. “And not on your body.”
“Yeah, so?”
“That’s kind of curious, don’t you think, given the color of your hair?”
Priss lifted his hand and dropped it over next to him. “Okay, first off, hands to yourself. Got it?”
He said nothing, but she saw the corner of his mouth tilt up in the slightest of smiles.
“Secondly, did you happen to notice that my brows and lashes are a darker brown without a hint of red?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’m not like other redheads who are . . .” Her face heated. “Red all over.”
“Yeah?” He glanced at her lap meaningfully. “Do tell.”
Priss punched him in the shoulder. “I don’t like what you’re thinking.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.” And with another provoking grin, “Do you?”
Like she’d say it out loud? No way. Priss crossed her arms. “If you were hinting that you think I dye my hair, I don’t. Everything on me is natural.”
“We’ll see.”
“No, we will not see a damn thing!”
Under his breath, Trace said, “I damn near saw today. If I’d moved a foot closer for a better look—”
“Stop it!” Priss felt heat throbbing in her face, and she hated it. “And that reminds me. I want you to delete that damned picture.”
“Not a chance. Seeing you in that getup was a trophy moment for me. "
― Lori Foster , Trace of Fever (Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor, #2)
73
" But when we go in, watch where you step.”
“Why?” Taking her arm, he started for the entrance, again surveying the area all around them. “You have land mines hidden around?”
Priss ignored him. “It’s this way.” She took the lead, steering him toward the side entrance. Nearby police sirens screamed, competing with music from the bar next door. “I’m on the second floor.”
They passed a hooker fondling a man against the brisk facing of the building. Priss stepped over and around a broken bottle. Tires squealed and someone shouted profanities.
Distaste left a sour expression on Trace’s face. “This dive needs to be condemned.”
“Maybe, but it’s shady enough that no one asked me any questions when I checked in.”
“It’s also shady enough that you could get mugged, raped or murdered in the damned lot and no one would notice.”
Priss shook her head. “I’m not worried about that.” They went up the metal stairs, precariously attached to the structure.
After muttering a rude sound, Trace said, “There’s a lot you should be worried about, but aren’t. "
― Lori Foster , Trace of Fever (Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor, #2)
75
" I’m known enough that he’s seen me nearly naked.”
Dare’s gaze lifted above her, no doubt to meet up with Trace’s.
She heard Trace sigh, and felt his shrug. “Murray’s orders.”
Dare nodded in understanding.
Understanding! How in the world could he understand that? The big jerk.
“I’m known enough for him to take a picture of me almost naked, too.” Priss scowled fiercely. “With his stupid cell phone. And he still has it!”
Trace stiffened behind her. “Damn it, Priss . . .”
Feeling braver by the second, she again left Trace’s secure hold to confront Dare. “And I’m known enough that your good buddy has felt me up, twice.”
That left eyebrow lifted to join the right. Dare shrugged. “If that’s true—”
“It is!”
“Then I’m sure Trace had his reasons.” He looked to Trace for confirmation.
Clearly growing irritated with her, not that she cared, Trace growled, “For the most part.”
And damned if Dare’s stony face didn’t show her a quirk of a smile—there and gone. Her hands balled into fists and her neck stiffened. “Why, you— "
― Lori Foster , Trace of Fever (Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor, #2)
76
" It take it Priss has you tied up in knots?”
There wasn’t much point in denying it. And maybe admitting things to Dare would help him get them under control. “I want her.”
“No shit. Tell me something I don’t know.”
Trace had trusted Dare forever, as a good friend, a partner in business and as an honorable man. He knew Dare had uncanny instincts and deadly skills.
But he thought he had covered his reaction to Priss.
“Damn.” Trace ran a hand through his hair. “Do you think Molly and Chris picked up on it, too?”
After a short sound that might have been a stifled laugh, Dare said, “They’re neither blind, deaf, or stupid. So . . . yeah. I’m betting they noticed.”
Trace frowned.
With a shake of his head, Dare dismissed his concern. “It’s not a big deal, Trace. Don’t sweat it.”
The mild, even amused reaction to his predicament surprised Trace. “She’s off-limits.”
“You think so?” Dare looked down at the dappling of sunshine through tree limbs, then back at Trace. “Why’s that?”
“What do you mean, why’s that? Hell, Dare, I barely know the woman.”
“You knew her well enough to take her picture.”
If Dare smiled, he was going to flatten him. Period. "
― Lori Foster , Trace of Fever (Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor, #2)
79
" Matt said, “I need to go. I have other appointments today.” Without a single ounce of hesitation, he cupped Priss’s shoulders, drew her forward, and gave her a smacking kiss right on her slightly parted lips.
It was a toss-up who was more surprised, Priss or Trace. Priss blinked rapidly, Trace snarled and Chris laughed at them both.
“I enjoyed working with you, Priss. You were more than entertaining, and a font of information on all things kinky.”
Trace narrowed his eyes. Was Matt trying to rile him? All things kinky? Just what the hell had they discussed? “What does that mean, Matt?”
“She schooled us on the porn marketplace. Very informative.” After a meaningful glance at Trace, he turned back to Priss. “I hope to see you again.”
She went still, unsure what to say. Trace filled in the silence. “Did you want to bill me, or get paid now?”
“I almost hate to charge, it was all so fascinating.”
Trace growled. “But you will.”
Grinning, Matt said, “Yes.” As he turned away, he added, “I’ll get something in the mail to Dare. He can pass it along to you. I certainly trust you.”
Matt’s emphasis meant that Priss didn’t trust him—not that Trace needed a reminder of that. "
― Lori Foster , Trace of Fever (Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor, #2)
80
" I was in the car with Trace and heard his side of the conversation with you. Sounded clear enough to me.”
“Apparently not, cuz I’m not sweet on her. What kind of dumb-ass thing is that to say? I like her, sure, even though she’s not the easiest lady to be around.”
“No?”
Jackson didn’t seem to hear her. He continued on as he pulled food from the tiny fridge and piled it on the counter. “She has her reasons for being prickly, and I know it.”
“Those reasons are?”
“And there isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t want her. She’s about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He shook his head. “But I’m not sweet> about anything.” He scoffed. “That sounds like some adolescent bullshit or something.”
“You have a very limited vocabulary.”
“My balls still hurt. It’s affecting my brain.”
“Your brain is located a little low, isn’t it?”
He paused, then laughed. Shaking a loaf of bread at her, he said, “Good one. I’ll have to try to remember this sharp wit of yours. "
― Lori Foster , Trace of Fever (Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor, #2)
